The Lovely Café
by taintedmoonx
Summary: AU I didn't believe in magic until I met him, of all places, at the Lovely Café. Seddie
1. Welcome to the Lovely Café

Welcome!

**IMPORTANT: UPDATES WILL BE _EXTREMELY _SLOW! Please be patient with me, peeps.**

To my followers who have stuck with me through the ups and downs (you guys are still there, right?) and to all you new viewers just tuning in-

Taintedmoonx proudly presents:

**. : t h e . **_**l**_** o **_**v**_** e **_**l**_** y . c a f é : .**

_C__ h a p t e r . __O__ n e_

**W**elcome **t**o **t**he **L**ovely **C**afé

"_The harder you fall the higher you bounce."_

_-Unknown_

"Welcome to The Lovely Cafe!" a chorus of excited voices chime loudly.

"You have got to be freaking kidding me," I deadpan, shooting Carly a deadly glare.

My best friend of several years just shrugs sheepishly. "I think it's cute."

"Cute, my ass," I mutter. The first thing I see when I enter Spencer's "The Lovely Cafe" I'm greeted by these overly-friendly employees who probably live off of happy pills? And to think I'll be one of them in just a few minutes? I think I'm going to vomit. Or shoot myself. Or vomit after I shoot myself.

I tell Carly what I think of the café and she frowns. "Sa-am!" She drags out my name into two syllables and sticks out her lower lip. "Don't you even remember why you _need _this job?"

I do. And yes, I admit that I need this job, but...stuck working in this "lovely" café with overly happy employees and Carly's crazy brother as my boss? No thank you. But Carly, being my - and I use this phrase with heavy sarcasm - bestest friend in the entire world, booked this job for me because, well, I was leading a pretty pathetic life up to this point...

_We'll end up numb from playing video games_  
_And we'll get sick of having sex._  
_And we'll get fat from eating candy;_  
_As we drink ourselves to death..._

_There's crusty socks_  
_And stacks of pizza boxes_  
_Making trails straight to the bed..._

_Well there's a long,_  
_Long list of chores_  
_And shit to do before we play,_  
_Oh let's just piss away the day._

"This song excellently depicts your life right now, Sam," Carly tells me, looking at me sternly. "Don't you have dreams to accomplish? Goals to achieve and a life to be made? You can't just crash at my place for the rest of your life."

I roll my eyes and increase the volume on the TV so I can drown out Carly's lecture. Unfortunately, Carly is pretty damn determined to talk to me today (for some mysterious reason I can't fathom) and grabs the remote from me to turn the TV off.

"What was that for?" I cry in dismay. "Taylor Lautner was just about to take his shirt off!"

"Ohmigawd really!" Carly squeals excitedly before she remembers that she's supposed to be angry at me (although I still don't really know why. I mean, I'm a good tenant...I think).

"Look, Sam, I know you don't have a job or a place to stay, and as your best friend, of course I let you stay here til you _get back on your feet_." She emphasizes the last five words and glares pointedly at me. "But look at you - you're not even _looking _for a job, and the only thing you do all day is watch TV and eat."

I snort and prop my feet on the coffee table in front of me and wiggle my toes before replying. "First of all, I _would _be looking for a job if the damned economy wasn't so screwed up." I look up from staring at my toes to see Carly's twitching eye fixed on my feet on her beloved coffee table. I smirk briefly before continuing. "Secondly, I _would _be eating, except the only food you keep in this apartment are vegetables and protein shakes!"

"I'm vegetarian, remember? Also, can't you just buy your own food?" Carly retorts.

"I would...except I kinda spent my last five bucks on some KFC a couple months ago..." I trail off sheepishly.

Carly throws her hands up in the air. "Then learn to eat food that isn't meat!" she cries in exasperation.

I roll my eyes. "Look, you've been a really good friend to me. You let me sleep here, watch TV all day, and I don't have to pay rent. But giving up meat? That's just asking too much." I get up from the couch to snatch up the remote.

"Which is why I got you a job!" Carly says brightly and escapes to her room.

"_WHAT_!" I fly off the couch and sprint to Carly's locked room. "Open the door, Carly! I told you I could find my own job!"

"Yeah, and look how well that turned out," comes Carly's muffled reply. "Anyways, dress nicely tomorrow and I'll drive you to work. I'd love to stay and chat, but I have a date tonight."

"This isn't over!" I growl threateningly before curiosity gets the better of me. "Who's your date?"

"Sorry, I don't wanna jinx it," Carly responds. "But we actually met at Spencer's café - whereyou'regoingtowork - and today's our first date since we exchanged numbers. Should I wear the floral print blouse or the pink one?"

"Floral," I reply automatically and take a step back when Carly opens the door and runs out.

"Gotta run - I don't wanna be late!" she shouts over her shoulder. "There's leftover pizza in the fridge. Stay safe and remember: stranger danger!"

I sigh and plop myself back into the couch. Moments later, I straighten up suddenly, Carly's words from earlier finally clicking in my head.

"I'M WORKING AT _THE LOVELY CAFÉ_!" I holler at the front door. "YOU ARE SO DEAD, CARLY SHAY!"

Someone shoot me now.

Of course, now that I'm actually _inside _my so-called house of work, I'm starting to wonder if agreeing to this was actually a good idea.

"CARLY!" Spencer cries, obnoxiously loud as always. "CARLY! IT'S SO GOOD TO SEE YOU AGAIN!" He envelopes Carly in a huge bear hug, then turns to me.

"SAM!" he shouts, the volume of his voice increasing tenfold. "SAM! IT'S SO GOOD TO SEE YOU AGAIN!"

I sidestep his incoming bear hug of death and despair and give Carly a look that says: "This is the hyperactive monster of a boss I have to work with?"

"I'm really thankful for all this, really," I say, backing away slowly. "But I think I'm gonna find a building to jump off of - 'kaythanksbye!" I quickly turn around to make my escape - only to bump into a pudgy male.

He gives me the universal head nod that all guys seem to use. "You the newbie?" he asks gruffly.

I shoot him one of my famous death glares that's been known to cause even the toughest of men to cower in fear. "Yeah, what's it to you, lard-face?"

"Sam!" Carly exclaims.

"What?" I shoot back indignantly. "He's fat...and he's not wearing a shirt."

"_Gibby!_" Spencer yells. "How many times have I told you to wear a shirt during work?"

Gibby mumbles an apology and says something about "getting excited," but at this point I'm tuning them out and focusing on Carly.

"So, Carly," I say. "How was your date last night?"

Carly shrugs. "Meh."

I wince. "That bad?"

My best friend shrugs again. "I dunno. He was kind of...bland. I mean, he was attractive and all, but he seemed kind of distant the whole time."

I pat her on the shoulder. "That sucks," I tell her sympathetically. "Now, if you'll excuse me – "

"_Sam._"

Carly's firm tone stops me in my attempt to escape. I slump my shoulders and sigh in resignation.

"Fine, I'll take the stupid job," I mutter, ignoring Carly's squeals of joy. "When do I start?"

"The first shift starts in half an hour," Spencer declares loudly, suddenly popping into the conversation. "So you can start now – Gibby will fill you in on the details and introduce you to the other workers."

_Oh joy._

"Oh, Sam, I gotta go to work." Carly's tone is apologetic. "You'll be okay?"

I wave her off with my hand. "Nah, I'll be fine. You go and do your reporter-business."

"Thanks so much for doing this for Sam, Spence," Carly gushes. "Good luck, Sam!" And with a twinkling of bells, she's gone.

I stare after her retreating figure and feel a rush of guilt and gratification overtake me. I don't have time to dwell on those feelings when Spencer thrusts a bundle of clothing into my arms.

"Change into these and go meet Gibby in the back. WORK STARTS IN A QUARTER TO SEVEN!" he added in a bellow. "C'mon, kiddo, hustle back."

I reluctantly take the uniform and make my way to the back of the café. _Today is going to be a long day._

_ "_Hey!" Carly's cheery voice greets me. "How was work?"

"It was horrible! I can't believe I let you convince me into doing this!" I exclaim.

Carly's happy expression turns sour. "Sam," she warns.

I roll my eyes and plop back on the couch. "It was fine," I grumble, turning my attention back to the TV. _Mm...Channing Tatum, come to momma!_

"Too bad he's gay," I say aloud.

"Who? Channing Tatum?" Carly hangs up her blazer and joins me on the couch.

I turn to face Carly. "Carls. So. You never told me the name of your mysterious date."

Carly doesn't take her eyes off the TV when she answers me. "Oh right. His name was Fredward Benson."

I immediately start guffawing. "_Fredward_? What the hell kind of a name is _Fredward?_" I barely manage to get those words out of my mouth before I dissolve into more peals of laughter.

Carly frowns. "Don't hate on people's names, Sam," she chides. "And he said most people call him Freddie, anyway."

I stop laughing and sit up straight. "Did you say Freddie?"

Carly gives me a sidelong glance. "Yeah. Why?"

"Does Freddie happen to have short brown hair? And sits like something crawled up his ass and die?"

"Yeah. No – wait – yeah. But _why?_"

"I was so tired out today that I totally forgot about what happened today," I tell her. "I _met _Freddie today."

Carly's eyes light up. "Well, what'd you think of him?" she asks excitedly.

"He was the _worst freaking tipper ever!_" I shout. "I can't believe I forgot about that!"

"Oh God, Sam, I can see where this is going. Please tell me you didn't – "

"He only gave me, like, fifty-cents, so I'm like 'Oh joy! Fifty-cents! Now I can finally pay my bills and health insurance!' and then he's all like, 'Oh, is that too much?'"

"_Please _tell me you didn't – "

"That damned sonnuva bitch got what he deserved," I finish triumphantly. "I poured his coffee into his lap and spit on his donut!"

"Oh no, you did," Carly moans, covering her face with her hands.

"Relax, no one saw it," I reassure her, crossing my arms over my chest. "At least, I hope not...Well, at any rate, he didn't seem _too _pissed off," I recall. "He just picked up his donut and left."

Carly is silent for a moment. "But he was really hot, am I right?"

"Oh yeah," I agree. "He was damn sexy."

"I think I'm going to give him another chance," Carly decides.

"WHAT?" I squawk. "Isn't that against the law or something? You are a traitor to this friendship, Carly Shay. I can't believe you're betraying me for this stupid jerk who tipped me so little money I can't even buy a one-dollar beef jerky!"

"Sam, you poured hot coffee in his lap. He'll be lucky if he can walk tomorrow."

"Yeah, well, the next time I see him I'm going to kick that sorry little ass into next week," I mutter determinedly.

My plans are foiled, however, when he doesn't show up at the Lovely Café for the next three days.

"That's strange."

I look up from counting the money in the cash register to see a frowning Spencer. Odd – Spencer never frowns.

"Freddie isn't here today. He's one of our regular customers."

I freeze. Crap on a stick.

"Oh well. Maybe he's just busy with work." Then Spencer seems to remember something and a secretive smile appears on his lips. He shakes his head with a quiet chuckle.

I stare at the cash register, which has grown a knowing smirk that says, "You're fucked."

"Shut up," I grumble vehemently and hastily stuff the money back in.

I switch my attention to the door and to the bustling streets outside.

Oh Lord, shoot me now.

The chiming of bells breaks me out of my misery, and I look up curiously – the Lovely Café doesn't open in another twenty minutes.

"Spencer!" a tall, dark-haired chick sings. "I'm ba-ack."

"VALERIE!" Spencer booms, obnoxiously loud as usual. "VALERIE! VALERIE! IT'S SO GOOD TO SEE YOU AGAIN!" he lunges forward to give her a bear hug, but she wisely sidesteps him and heads over to where I'm standing.

"Hi," she says with a smile, giving me a calculating once over. "I'm Valerie."

"Sam," I respond shortly, ignoring her out-stretched hand. Something about this girl rubs me the wrong way, but I can't put a finger on what it is exactly.

"Alright girls, you two play nice!" Spencer calls. "I'm going to check on the others."

"Will do, boss," Valeria replies saccharinely.

_Gag me, _I think in disgust.

Valerie immediately drops her facade when Spencer disappears behind the curtain that leads to the kitchen.

"Listen here, newbie," she growls threateningly. "There's a customer who always comes here – his name is Freddie – and whatever you do, you are _not _allowed to serve him, talk to him, touch him, or breathe on him in a five-foot radius. Freddie is _mine. _Are we clear?"

I stare at her.

"I said, are we clear?" she leans forward and practically spits on my face.

"Fine! Fine. Jesus," I mutter under my breath, preparing to turn away.

Valerie stops me with a vice-like grip on my shoulder. "Good," she says sweetly. "Because if I ever catch you around him, your life is going to be _hell_. Got it?"

"Ow! Shit – _fine_!"

"We're going to be the best of friends," Valerie informs me with a bright grin. With those lovely parting words, she turns and flounces off.

I rub my sore shoulder and don't comment. Ah, now I know what about this crazy lady rubs me the wrong way – she's a two-faced bitch.

I inwardly smirk. Valerie has no idea who she's dealing with. With an evil chuckle, I set about cleaning the tables and rearranging the napkins.

Welcome to the Lovely Café.

* * *

I disclaim.

Thanks for reading guys! And the chapters will be longer in the future - I just wanted to introduce everything/everyone in this chapter. :)

Hope you like it!

Reviews are greatly appreciated-


	2. Welcome to My Personal Hell

Thank you so much for the reviews! **Check out the trailer** I made for this story! (remove the spaces)

http : / / www . youtube . com / watch ? v = Nro6kYIEv84&

The link is also on my profile :) Enjoy~!

**. : t h e . **_**l**_** o **_**v**_** e **_**l**_** y . c a f é : .**

_C__ h a p t e r . __T__ w o_

**W**elcome **t**o **M**y **P**ersonal **H**ell

_"I eat competition for breakfast."_

_-Logan Schofield_

"Why is Freddie not here yet?" Valerie demands petulantly.

"Maybe it's because you're a stupid two-faced ho!" I spit at her. Or, at least, what I wish I could spit at her. Instead, I quietly rearrange the slices of coffee cake in the display case and watch her out of the corner of my eye.

"He's usually here around eight-thirty," Valerie murmurs, playing with a lock of her hair. "I wonder if he's sick or something."

I hungrily eye the row of Fat Cakes that I had just previously sorted, and surreptitiously look around me. _No one will notice if I just snag one, right? _

Unfortunately, fate seems to have other plans for me, because the door opens with a small chime, and Valerie squeals, "Freddie!"

I hastily snatch a Fat Cake and stuff it into my apron pocket and quietly move back towards the kitchen. I barely make it to the kitchen entrance when Valerie's poisonously sweet voice whips through the air like lightning.

"You want to speak with Sam? Of course I'll get her for you!"

I turn around just in time to see Valerie walking towards me mouthing, "You're dead, bitch."

I smile back, the perfect picture of innocence, and just as she strolls past me, I stick out my foot and trip her. Supremely satisfied with my handiwork and her surprised yelp, I grab my notebook and pen and don't even bother to plaster a fake smile on my face.

"Back so soon, Fred_weird_?" I sneer, taking a vicious bite out of my Fat Cake.

His baby face takes on a surprised expression. "How do you know my – "

"I have my ways, dork."

Now the bastard has the audacity to look amused! "How did you know I was going to – "

"I'm psychic!" I snarl. _You're getting off-track, Sammy! _"Anyways," I continue calmly, leaning down so that we are nose-to-nose. "You must have some serious set of balls coming back to a place like this, Fredward." I take another furious chomp out of my delicious Fat Cake.

He furrows his brows in mock confusion. "Well, Puckett," he starts.

My eyes widen and I scramble backward. "Hold on a minute, Benson," I shriek-whisper. "How the hell do you know my name? Are you an undercover FBI agent or something? Because I swear –"

"Jesus, chill out, _Princess Puckett_," the Freddork interjects. "You're wearing a flipping name tag. And what's with the nicknames all of a sudden? I didn't do anything to you."

"Oh, is that a problem for you, Fredifer?" I mock. "Fredilupe. Fredface. Fred-lump. Freddork." I pause to think. "Fredweird."

"You said that already." Freddie's tone of voice is dry.

I immediately raise my fist as if to punch him.

Fredweird holds his hands out complacently. "Hey, hey! The customer is always right!"

I lower my fist but continue to fix my death glare at him. Too bad he hasn't ordered anything yet...

Freddie seems to catch on to my train of thought and he chuckles. "No way am I letting my drink anywhere near you. That suit you ruined the other day was Armani."

I smash what's left of my Fat Cake on the top of his head, making sure I grind up the crumbs deep into his hair and turn around to horrified stares from the customers around me.

"What?" I spit. "You haven't seen an angry chick before?" I angrily stomp my way into the kitchen.

"Hey! You haven't taken my order yet!" Freddie calls after me (at this point I am too incensed to even think of a decent name to call him).

I whip my head around and glare at him. "When my shift is over, I'm gonna kick your ass so hard you'll wish you were never born."

"Samantha?" Valerie calls sweetly. "Spencer wants a word."

"It's Sam," I mutter. _Bitch. _

She sneers at me, as if to say, "You're gonna get it, stupid ho."

I quickly pray to the Lord Cheesus that I don't get fired.

It turns out that Spencer had just wanted to ask me how I was fitting in, sparking a flash of guilt to light up in my chest. Although Spencer could be rather…loud, and, well, obnoxious, he had a good heart and was always looking out for his family and friends. His concern for me almost – key word – _almost _made me want to apologize to Freddie. Horrified at the thought of apologizing, I tune back in to what Spencer is telling me.

"Now, Sam," Spencer says, "I know that Valerie may be vicious at times, but she really is a good kid."

I stare at him incredulously, trying not to believe what he just told me.

"Don't look at me like that, Sam! Contrary to popular belief, I'm not as stupid as I look, and I just wanted to–"

A loud crash followed by a string of colorful curses diverts our attention to the storage room in the back of the kitchen.

Spencer shakes his head. "GIBBY!" he shouts angrily. "I SWEAR IF THAT'S YOU, YOU'RE GONNA REGRET THE DAY YO MOMMA GAVE BIRTH TO YOUR SORRY ASS!" Spencer shoots me a grimace and stalks into the kitchen.

By this point I have learned to ignore Spencer's tirades and prepare to step back out and man the cashier when Spencer pops back in front of me again. Startled, I stifle the urge to yell bloody murder.

"Oh, by the way, Sam," Spencer says brightly, his eyes taking on a feverish sort of gleam.

I warily step away from him and prepare to fight for my life.

"What do you think about taking a night shift here?"

I blink at him and relax. "Uh…I never knew you guys had a night shift."

Spencer either doesn't hear me or he chooses to ignore me, because he carries on as if I hadn't spoken. "It wouldn't be everyday, of course. You could even have part of the week during the day and the other part at night. Whaddya say, kiddo?"

I narrow my eyes at him. No way was I going to miss precious time with my TV for some dumb job! I don't want to be mean to Spencer though. After all, he _had _given me the job (even if I hadn't asked for it), and plus I guess I owed him a couple of favors. I shrug and say, "I'll think about it."

Spencer doesn't look dejected, and instead his face lights up. "Perfect! Just let me know as soon as possible, okay?" He ruffles my hair.

I slap his hand away and walk back to the cashier with a grumble. I scan the room in search of Freddie, but my heart sinks when I see that he has already left. Aw, too bad. I was looking forward to tormenting him some more. Come to think of it, why hadn't Spencer said anything about the whole Freddie Fiasco? I didn't spend a lot of time pondering this and instead snagged another Fat Cake for myself to munch on. An elderly couple notices this and starts whispering to each in heated whispers. I ignore them and resiste the overwhelming urge to snap at them.

To my relief, the rest of my shift continues without a hitch (thank the Cheesus). Valerie doesn't bother me at all. In fact, she pretty much avoids me the entire time. I don't really know whether I feel relieved or disappointed. Relieved because if I lose my temper and break her face I might lose my job, disappointed because I won't be able to break her face. However, she does look like she's planning something, but I don't take it to heart. I can take on whatever she throws at me. I say, bring it on, bitch.

"Sam! Your shift's over – you're free to go, kiddo!" Spencer yells from across the room.

I ignore the startled expressions on the customers' faces and shrug off the store apron.

"Thanks Spence," I call back. "I'm out!"

"Later Sam," Gibby grunts.

I wave to him fondly. The shirtless goober's been starting to grow on me.

"See you tomorrow, Samantha," Valerie says sweetly. Her, on the other hand…

I give her the middle finger when Spencer turns around to lecture some other employee. Her fake-sweet mask quickly morphs into one of rage and she starts stalking towards me. I take this as my cue to leave and hightail it out of there.

Once I'm safely outside behind the glass windows I see her stopped by a customer pointing unhappily at his coffee mug. She gives me a murderous glance before taking his proffered coffee mug. I use this opportunity to move my middle finger in front of my crotch and mouth, "Suck it." I run the hell out of there before I can see her reaction.

The thought occurs to me the minute I'm in front of Carly's apartment.

_Where the hell are my flipping keys? _

I'm not really holding anything else except for my jacket and a bag of Fat Cakes and beef jerky. I retrace my steps in my mind and groan. Of course I left them at the Lovely Café. Why does this have to happen to me? Carly isn't home yet, either. It's still seven o'clock, and she always comes back at seven-thirty on the dot. I contemplate calling her, but immediately decide against it; work-mode Carly is even more serious than normal Carly, and interrupted work-mode Carly is an experience I never want to repeat again. I shudder at the thought.

I thank the frickin' lord that the Lovely Café is in walking distance of this blasted apartment. I curse the fact that I don't have a car (or insurance, but that doesn't really bother me at this moment) and make the twenty-minute trudge to the Lovely Café. As I'm approaching the street it's on I wonder if the night shift has already started, or if there's even a night shift at all tonight. The sky is steadily darkening and I start jogging towards the café. To my utter dismay and horror, the inside is not only dark and obviously closed, but Freddie's standing there, back straight and hands in his pockets. He doesn't seem to notice me yet, and I abruptly halt my jogging and prepare to turn around and leave. Unfortunately (someone has it in for me, I just know it) Freddie turns his head the second I decide to leave and he waves at me.

_Please don't come towards me, please don't come towards me, _I silently beg. I am starving and I had stupidly left my food in front of the apartment door with a note that said, "Anyone who touches this bag will die a long, agonizing death of doom and despair." I usually keep this note under the doormat in case of situations like these. Yes, they happen to me quite often, but usually with two armfuls of grocery bags.

I halt my train of thought in alarm when I notice that Freddie is standing awkwardly in front of me. I vaguely note that he is several inches taller than me, and slightly more buff than I initially realized. He is, as usual, wearing a pressed collared shirt, black slacks, and a blazer. His hair, to my amusement, is also gelled back and neatly parted to the side. I reach out and ruffle it as hard as I can.

He immediately pulls back with a yell and a jerk of his head, but the damage is already done. I lean back with a smug grin plastered on my face. Take that, frigid sonnuva bitch! Then I remember what I'm doing here and I sigh regretfully.

"Sorry, Freddo, but I can't stay and keep you company," I say. "I've got some keys to find." I push past him and study the glass doors. I always carry a spare bobby pin in my pocket, and these doors don't look that hard to pick…

"Whatever you're thinking of doing, don't," Freddie cautions. I turn around and watch his half-hearted attempts of rearranging his hair.

"What makes you think I'm thinking about something bad?" I ask, widening my eyes in the perfect picture of innocence.

He rolls his eyes. "I may have only known you for a few hours, but I think I know you well enough that you're thinking of somehow breaking in and taking your keys back."

Damn. Foiled by the nerd!

I roll my eyes back at him. "Well, for you information, I wasn't thinking about breaking and entering."

He gives me a sardonic look and sighs in frustration when he realizes that there is no way of fixing his hair. "Well, you're in luck, Puckett," he tells me smugly, reaching into his pants pocket. "For I am the one who has your–"

I cut him off when a desperate war cry and launch myself at his pocket. I grab my keys hungrily and shout, "VICTORIOUS!" I almost add, "This is Sparta!" but I realize that I have already attracted quite a bit of attention and instead start sprinting back to the apartment.

I think I hear Freddie shouting after me but I ignore it and yell, "Keep the hair, Benson! It makes you look sexy!"

I don't have time to process those words. My meat is waiting for me and I'll be damned if I don't get some in the next ten minutes.

"You _WHAT!_" I shriek, my euphoria from last night quickly dissipating when Carly tells me her good news with a dreamy expression plastered on her face. It's funny, her lips are moving, but I can't seem to hear a thing…

"Isn't it great?" she squeals. "I decided to call him again last night, and it was the greatest! His hair was way sexier, and he had this, like, weird and feverish glow about him – but it was great!"

"Great," I echo. _Redundant sentence is redundant, much?_

"Yeah! I don't know what happened, but he suddenly made this total three-sixty!"

_Thanks to me, _I think to myself viciously, stabbing my sausages with a little too much force than deemed necessary.

"We got into his car afterwards and had this totally _hot _make-out session." Carly sighed and fanned herself with her hands. "It was–"

"Great," I deadpan.

Carly shoots me a weird look. "Aren't you happy for me, Sam?" she demands petulantly. "This is the first successful date I've gone on since Adam! Do you _want _me to end up old and alone with ninety-nine cats?"

"Urgh," I groan. "It's too early for all this." I slump over on the table. "I need more meat, Carls!"

"Not until you approve of Freddie and me," she says primly.

"Fine!" I relent. "I approve of you two. Now where's my meat?"

"Thanks, Sam!" Carly sounds relieved.

Good. She should be.

"Maybe I can ask Fredward to set you up," she says thoughtfully. "We're going out again next Wednesday."

I splutter indignantly. "First of all, um, no way in _freaking hell._ Second, Fredward? Seriously, Carly?" I greedily grab the plateful of sausages Carly offers me.

Carly shrugs, not at all uncomfortable. "I think it's cute. And in all honesty, I'm pretty sure he prefers Fredward to Freddie. Freddie just sounds so juvenile."

"Sure…" I am not convinced.

"So what are our plans for today?" Carly asks, sitting down across from me. "I was thinking since it's Saturday we could go shopping or something."

I make a small noise in the back of my throat. "Maybe." A thought suddenly occurs to me.

"Hold on, Carls," I say, brandishing my fork in her direction. "You say you went out with Freddie last night?"

Carly shifts in her seat. She nods.

"And you went to the Lovely Café?"

Another nod.

I cock my head to the side and I narrow my eyes at her. Something is not right…

"Say, Carlotta, about what time did you and Freddie go on this date?"

Carly frowns. She doesn't seem to catch on to my suspicions. "About…eight-ish?"

"Okay then, riddle me this. Why is it that when I went to the Lovely Café to retrieve my keys, it was obviously closed, but when you and _Fredweird _go, it's open?"

"Sam, they have a night shift." Carly doesn't look fazed at all by my interrogation.

"But–!" I open my mouth, then close it. Damn. Foiled again.

Still, things don't add up. I sit back in my chair and scrunch my eyebrows together. If they have a night shift, shouldn't they be prepping for it before? I recall from last night that all the lights were off, and the blinds had been shut as well. There was also a sign that clearly said –

I sit back up. Carly has wandered over to the living room and turned on the TV during my ponderings. She raises my eyebrows at me, but I ignore her. I seem to be doing a lot of ignoring these days.

There was no "closed" sign behind the glass. Does that mean that it wasn't closed? I hadn't tried the door when I was there – I had assumed that it was locked, judging by the dark interior. Maybe I'm looking too deep into this. I am about to give up when another thought occurs to me. How did Freddie end up with my keys? Did Spencer give it to him knowing that I would come back for them? If there was a night shift, shouldn't he have held on to them himself?

I rub my temples. This is _way _too much thinking for me this early in the morning. I push all my thoughts aside and sit there, completely stumped. Suddenly, brilliant thought occurs to me – I can take the night shift! That would be a perfect way to solve all those mysteries…and make some more money at the same time. My mouth waters again just at the thought of more meat.

I hastily take out my cell phone and dial Spencer's number. I congratulate myself on my sheer genius and wait for him to answer.

"Hey, Spencer? It's Sam. I was wondering if your offer for the night shift was still standing?"

I sometimes look back on this moment and wonder if I would have done things differently if I had known what taking a night shift at the café would entail.

Welcome to the Lovely Café.


	3. Welcome to the Night of Magic

**Warning: un-beta'd  
**

**. : t h e . _l_ o _v_ e _l_ y . c a f é : .**

_C h a p t e r . T h r e e_

**W**elcome **t**o **t**he **N**ight **o**f **M**agic

"_After all, it is not where one washes one's neck that counts but where one moistens his throat."_

_-Djuna Barnes_

The world around me is a wash of golden. Everything glows dimly against the varying hues of bronze and gold. Briefly, I wonder if I'm in heaven – then I remember that I don't believe in God, and if there _were_ a heaven there would certainly be a hell of a lot more food.

The room I'm currently standing in is empty, but it looks vaguely familiar and for a moment I stand there and rack my mind in an attempt to remember where I've seen this place before: the floor, entirely black and white but still somehow a shade of golden-brown, is reminiscent of a chess board – big checkered squares of contrasting colored tiles neatly line the ground. Four tall walls stretch up all around me, white and pristine. The entrance behind me tinkles softly as another person makes his entrance known. I immediately know who it is and an uncharacteristic grin stretches my lips from ear to ear.

I enthusiastically turn around to greet the person, but I make no move to close the distance between us. He returns my greeting with a wry grin and crinkling at the corners of his eyes. It only takes four steps from him to press up against me, strong arms encircling my waist.

_Come__to_momma, I think delightedly.

"Welcome to the Lovely Café, Sam," he breathes against my lips.

I wake up before I feel his lips against mine. I throw back the covers in a panic and sit up against my pillows.

I try quelling the rapid staccato of my furiously beating heart and taking several deep breaths in a desperate attempt to cool down the telltale flush of my cheeks.

"What the fricking _frack_was that?" I mutter to myself, pressing the palms of my hands tightly over my eyes.

After my heart rate has slowed down exponentially and I have managed to somewhat pull myself together do I think about my dream. Now that I am awake I can clearly remember that I had been standing in the empty room of the Lovely Café. That much kind of makes sense, since I love to eat, but that still doesn't explain the fact why it was completely empty of anything edible. It certainly doesn't explain why Freddie fucking Benson had managed to sneak his way into my head. I fight back a blush and lower my fingertips to rest lightly on my closed mouth. I can still feel the ghost of his arms around my waist and his warm breath against my lips. I close my eyes and recall the musky scent of his cologne as he –

"GAAAAAAAH!" I bury my head in my pillow and ignore Carly's worried voice when she opens my door and asks me if everything's alright.

Everything's _great._Just fucking peachy.

"What day of the week is it?" I ask suddenly.

Carly levels me with an odd glance. "Wednesday," she says slowly, tilting her head to the side.

"Oh." And I leave it at that.

Carly, however, doesn't know how to take the hint. "Why?"

I shrug, downing the last of my orange juice. "I'm starting the night shift today."

"Oh." Carly's tone is nonchalant, but I know deep down she's judging me nine ways to hell.

"Yeah. You got a problem with that, Carly Shay?" I snap irritably. I'm still smarting from last night's dream, but I try to push it to the back of my head.

My best friend has the decency to look guilty as she meets my eyes. "No! Of course not," she replies, slightly startled. She brightens up considerably when I don't answer. "Actually, that's really exciting! The night shift at the Lovely Café is–"

"I don't have time for this, Carls," I interrupt. "I'm gonna be late for work." I pretend not to see the hurt flash through her eyes and hurriedly grab my keys and shoes. Last night's dream is already long forgotten, and I brace myself for a grueling day at work.

Freddie is already seated in his usual isolated corner by the time I arrive and start the nine o'clock shift. I ignore his pleasant "hello" with a roll of my eyes and hurry into the staff room to change. Gibby ambushes me the moment I step outside. He pulls me aside and leans in conspiratorially.

"We have a bet going on," he whispers loudly in my face. I wrinkle my nose and wipe flecks of spit from my nose.

"By 'we,' do you mean just yourself?" I reply dryly, yanking my arm out of his meaty grasp.

He shrugs. "I don't have a lot of friends."

I sigh. "Neither do I, bub," I throw an arm around his shoulders. "Now what's this bet about?"

"We have a bet to see how long it takes for Freddie to snap."

I inwardly groan. Of course it would be about him. I decide to just say, "Please explain."

He shrugs again. "Valerie keeps on hitting on him, even though he's going out with Carly. I just wanna see how long it'll take for him to completely reject her. But I think he's gonna snap by the end of this week."

My lips curl into an evil grin. "I say by the end of the day today. You're on – what's the reward?"

"Hundred bucks."

We spit and shake on it.

"Gibby! Sam! We have orders to take!"

I clap Gibby on the shoulder. "You have the night shift tonight, right?"

At his nod, I say, "Good. Then you can see Freddie lose it and say good bye to your money."

He barks out a laugh. "We'll see about that, Puckett."

My mood is considerably lightened at the prospect of one hundred dollars, I don't even complain when I'm told to take Freddie's order.

"You're in a good mood today," he observes in amusement.

"What can I say, Freddo?" I lean forward and purr, "Just seeing you today is enough to make my day." I have no idea what's gotten into me. I swear to god I'm crazy. (1)

He stares back at me calmly, completely unfazed. "Glad to hear it, Puckett. You know my usual." He hands me the menu and turns his attention to his Blackberry.

Slightly disappointed, I snatch back the menu and jot down his order. I frown at the top of his head and resist the urge to sock him in the face. That kid seriously irritates me. When I head back to the kitchen I don't miss Valerie's red face and angry glare. She must've seen my attempts to provoke Freddie, but I just shoot her a smug look and start preparing his coffee. Not for the first time, I wonder how he can drink it straight up black. I toy with the idea of spitting in the cup, just for the hell of it. I end up staring at the cup for a few minutes until I'm broken out of my daze by another employee – Hank – who clears his throat at me impatiently. I give him the stink eye, but resignedly take the cup off the coffee machine. Spitting in Fredweird's drink can wait till another day.

"Can you pass me a cover?" I ask absentmindedly to another employee on my other side.

I am so preoccupied in my thoughts I don't realize that it's Valerie; I take the cover from her proffered hand, unaware that she's still extending her arm towards Freddie's drink. I blink, and a burning flash of pain on my hand shocks me with a cry.

Swearing profusely, I clench my burned hand in a fist, boring holes into the spilled drink and cup. I glance up into Valerie's triumphant eyes. She doesn't bother to offer help, and instead makes a new cup of coffee and brushes past me.

I can only wordlessly clean up the mess with my uninjured hand, quietly thanking Hank for his help. I suddenly have the desperate urge to slowly strangle Valerie to death. With my mind. Yeah. I'm _that_angry.

"That bitch doesn't know what's coming to her," I murmur lowly, already furiously plotting schemes in my head and deciding how exactly I want to orchestrate her death.

Four o'clock cannot have come sooner. I breathe a sigh of relief and make my way into the staff room to change out of my dirty uniform. The coffee that Valerie had deliberately spilled on me had only managed to stain the bottom right corner of my shirt, but towards lunchtime some stupid-ass kids had initiated a mini-food-fight (which I unashamedly had participated in) and I had been forced to clean up after them.

I sit down at an empty table and prop my chin up with both my hands. Since there's a night shift today, everybody gets off earlier, and I decide to stall for a few moments and wait until most of the employees have left.

I must've spaced a little, because when I become aware of my surroundings again, the café is eerily quiet. I swear under my breath and rush to the staff room, praying to the Cheesus that it's unlocked. I slow down when I'm about to approach the door; I shout out a triumphant "YES" when the doorknob turns with ease. I quickly grab my bag and head to the bathroom to change. Before I enter the bathroom I notice that the door to the broom closet adjacent to it is slightly ajar. I move to properly close it when the door is forcibly yanked out of my grasp and someone pushes me headfirst into the closet.

My head crashes against something solid with a resounding _thunk_, and the last thing I remember hearing is the slam of the door and a final _click_ as it locks in place.

I don't even realize that I'm unconscious until my eyes fly open and I sit up in shock. I rest my head behind my knees to allow some blood to flow back and wait for the pounding in my skull to abate. I blink back stars in my eyes and carefully stand up. I check my phone for the time – 6:03PM – I still have twenty-seven minutes until the night shift starts.

I sigh in relief; that was plenty of time to build something and blast my way out. Good thing I always keep the essentials close by. I double-check to make sure the door doesn't lock from the inside, and rummage through my bag to locate the necessary items I need.

I'm free fifteen minutes later, but I wince at the charred rubble that used to be a door.

"Okay, yeah, _that__'__s_coming out of my pay check," I sigh sadly. I stare at the remains of the door, then decide to worry about it later. I check my phone again – I still have enough time to run back home and get a clean change of clothes.

I sprint the whole way back, noting with vague confusion that the sun hasn't started setting yet. I quickly shake those thoughts out of my head and focus on running.

Carly's already home when I get there, but I barely pay any attention to her.

"Sorry, Carls, gotta run," I pant, kicking off my shoes in annoyance. No matter how hurried I am, Carly always makes me take off my shoes before entering the house. "I'm gonna be late for work."

Carly stares at me in such an unsettling way I pause what I'm doing and stare back. "What?"

"Sam, it's barely five o'clock," she says. Then alarm rises in her voice. "Sam, you're bleeding!"

I gape at her and ignore her last outburst – I know I probably look like hell – I had just blown up a door, for crying out loud. "Are you kidding me? It's probably almost seven by now." My voice dies in my throat when I pull out my phone to check the time: 4:50PM.

My legs wobble before giving out, and I collapse on the floor.

"Holy _crap_on a cracker," I choke out. Something warm trickles down the side of my temple and I raise my fingers to my forehead. I pull them back to see they're coated with blood.

"That's probably from the broom closet," I say lightly, and I avert my gaze to Carly's shocked eyes. I try to shrug casually. "I may or may not still be in shock." Come to think of it, my heart rate does seem to be faster than usual, and I can hear an audible thumping in my ears.

My vision flickers dangerously and I squint at the person sitting behind her. Had he always been sitting there? Before I pass out for the second time that day, I manage to tell Carly, "Wake me up at six. I have a bet to collect."

I should have known that Carly wouldn't wake me up, because by the time I come back to consciousness, I'm in bed, and the alarm clock on my dresser cheerily tells me that it's nine o'clock. It takes me a few minutes to remember what I'm doing in bed in the first place, because I have a vendetta to pursue against Valerie – who the hell else could have pushed me into that broom closet – but most importantly, I have a bet to collect. Ignoring the throbbing pain on the side of my temple, a brief brush of my fingertips informs me that someone cleaned it up and bandaged my forehead, I cautiously sit up and lean against my headboard, groping in the darkness for my cell phone. I flip it open (I'm too broke to afford an actual smartphone) to call Spencer, but surprise flickers in my chest when I see that he, Gibby, and Hank have sent me worried text messages.

Spencer tells me – and I quote: "Not to fret, for the night shift is still open tomorrow! Feel better!" Affection swells up and I can feel tears forming in the corners of my eyes (yep, definitely still in shock). Hank says that he covered for me and that he "accidentally" spilled coffee all over Valerie's new Gucci purse during tonight's night shift. I smile and check Gibby's text message; apparently Freddie had finally blown up at Valerie when she wouldn't stop hitting on him in front of Carly. He goes on to say that he'll give me my hundred dollars tomorrow night, and that I'd better be there or else Valerie would drive him to a homicidal rampage.

I sigh, a tad regretfully. Seeing Freddie yell at Valerie in-person would have made it far more satisfying. Oh well, no matter. There's always next time.

Quiet murmurs filter in through my closed door, signaling that Carly has come home, but she's not alone. A low laugh reaches my strained ears, and I realize that Freddie is here as well, and they're both heading towards my room. Bile rises in my throat, and I hurriedly set my phone down and pretend to sleep.

The door creaks open, and I shut my eyes, evening out my breathing.

"I know I've said this before, but I'm going to kill Valerie," Freddie declares, anger seeping into his whispered voice.

I can almost hear Carly raising her eyebrows in surprise. "You really think she did this?"

"Yeah. Gibby wouldn't lie." He almost sounds scandalized.

"I just don't think anyone would go through the trouble of actually inflicting bodily harm onto someone they barely know."

"You'd be surprised."

"Still. I think we should wait until Sam wakes up to hear her side. Although, fair warning, she's quite prone to exaggeration."

Freddie sighs. "Yeah, you're right. Sorry, I'm still a little miffed about earlier tonight."

Carly giggles. "My knight in shining armor," she coos. There's a quiet smacking sound. I roll my eyes. _Get__ a __room__ – __and __preferably __not __mine._

They leave, almost as if they had heard my thoughts, their departure finalized with a loud click.

I'm lying on my side with my eyes wide open in the darkness. For some reason, their conversation does nothing to mollify my frazzled nerves. If anything, the pounding in my head becomes stronger, and for reasons I can't explain, I suddenly feel like crying.

_Yeah,__ I__'__m_ definitely _still __in __shock.__I __probably__ have __a __concussion._

That thought only manages to worsen the nausea churning in my stomach.

* * *

(1) Inspired by _The Catcher in the Rye_

**A/N: I will try my best to have a more efficient update schedule, but I didn't want to half-ass a chapter just for the sake of having a chapter. Sorry for the wait!**

**The link to the trailer is in my profile, if anyone is curious; you can also check for updates on my DreamWidth or LiveJournal, but just a heads up, I don't have anything of importance on their yet - but I'll try to keep you guys updated there and maybe (in the future) post some outtakes/bonus/deleted scenes.**

**Reviews are (strongly) encouraged and very much appreciated :)  
**


	4. Welcome to the Night Shift

I just re-watched iOMG, and I've been thinking: who else besides me thinks that Sam drew a surprisingly accurate picture of a penis on Gibby's forehead? C'mon, I know that's what y'all are thinking.

It's kinda short. Yeah.

As usual, the link to the trailer is on my profile.

Enjoy! (PS: FFdotnet is being a bitch so sorry if the formatting is off - slash, "Chapter Four" is missing the "hapte.")

* * *

**. : t h e . _l_ o _v_ e _l_ y . c a f e: .**

_C r. F o u r_

**W**elcome **t**o **t**he **N**ight **S**hift

"_That's the thing with magic. You've got to know it's still here, all around us, or it just stays invisible for you."_

_-Charles de Lint_

"Carly," I moan pathetically, weakly scrabbling at the closed bathroom door. "Hurry up…I'm dying out here!" I groan pitifully, curling myself into a tight ball on the floor. Voilà, ladies and gentlemen, Sam Puckett's impression of a dead fetus. I have to clench my teeth together to stop myself from laughing at my own joke; every time I so much as move I feel like my stomach's going to explode.

The telltale creak of the door and the audible click of the light switch cut through the hazy fog of pain that has taken refuge in my head. I just squeeze my eyes shut and utter another feeble gurgle.

Freddie's amused voice makes my eyes fly open. "Something wrong, Princess Puckett?"

"I don't have time for this, Freddie Fucking Benson," I gasp, thankful that in my state of distress I have somehow managed to turn away from the door. "Just get Carly – or call the morgue – I think I may have cholera," I wheeze, clutching at my stomach.

"How about I have Carly get you some pants and I'll make breakfast?" Freddie suggests lightly. He lifts his foot as if he's contemplating stepping over me, but moves to the side at the last minute.

It barely registers that I'm only wearing an over-sized shirt and boxers and I snap, "Oh my god, what the hell is wrong with you? Is this what you do every time you see a dead body lying at your feet? Offer them tea and biscuits to make them go away?" However, my traitorous stomach lurches at the thought of – _oh sweet Jesus – _food, and when that thought leads my mind to think of meat, I think I'm going to pass out from the sheer _need._

"Freddie? Sam? Is everything all right?" Carly's worried voice drifts down the hallway.

"She thinks she has cholera," Freddie says dryly.

"Sam." Carly crouches down in front of me. "You don't have cholera."

"I think the symptoms beg to differ," I gasp weakly. "I'm nauseated, I'm feverish, and I think my stomach is going to eat itself if you keep on stalling any longer."

Carly raises an eyebrow. "When was the last time you ate anything?"

I open my mouth to fire back a snappish retort, but then it hits me. I gape at my best friend. Ladies and gentlemen, Sam Puckett's impression of a dying goldfish.

"I can't remember," I whisper, suddenly feeling dizzy and out of place. I start to panic. "Carly! I can't remember the last time I ate! This is unacceptable – I need meat, Carly," I tell her desperately. I would be clinging on to the front of her shirt if I weren't still trying to remember when my last meal was.

Carly sighs in exasperation, but I can see a hint of fondness in her expression. "I thought so," she says with conviction. "Freddie, there's a pound of beef jerky in the cabinet above the refrigerator."

"I'm on it," he says immediately. I roll my eyes. He is _so _whipped.

Carly turned towards me with a goofy smile playing on her lips. I narrow my gaze at her, wondering if I was imagining the slightly predatory smirk that had appeared just moments before.

"He's _perfect, _S," she gushes in a whisper. "Did you know that he's the CEO of the Pear Company? He invented the MoodFace app for the Pear Phone and he's produced a couple of web shows!"

I offer her what I hope is an encouraging smile. She seems to buy it, because she continues to blather on and on about his accomplishments and how rich he is. "He bought me a Swarovski necklace yesterday! I couldn't show you because – you – you know…But it's _gorgeous_–"

"Talking about me, Carly?" Freddie suddenly appears in my line of vision holding – I suck in a deep breath.

Carly beams up at Freddie. She's about to say something but I'm pushing past her and lunging for the bag of beef jerky. Freddie lets out a startled yell and takes a few steps back. I end up crashing into his legs and tackling him to the ground. I ignore Carly's shocked cries and triumphantly yank the beef jerky out of Freddie's limp hands. I savagely tear through the flimsy plastic bag and shove the delicious meat into my mouth.

I'm not too ashamed to admit that I may have had a tiny orgasm.

I feel my eyes roll back into my head. "Oh god, _yes!_" I moan, throwing my head back in pleasure. "Oh _yeah…_oh yes! _Oh god that is so good. Oh…yeah!"_

"Sam?" Carly says timidly.

I turn around to face her, my mouth still full of half-chewed beef jerky. Carly looks slightly shocked, and several emotions seem to be warring across her face, the most apparent of them seem to be amusement and…jealousy? That can't be right.

"Sam, I think you should probably get off of Freddie."

I blink, and turn back around to see that Freddie's face is scarlet, and he is pointedly looking away from me. It's just now that I remember that I'm not wearing any pants, and I'm about to stand up when I realize that I'm straddling Freddie's thighs. The none-too innocent moans I had just been making suddenly sound in my ears and I flush, suddenly at a loss for words.

"Okay then, I'll just – erm – take my meat and go." I try to appear as nonchalant as possible as I gather the scattered meat into my arms.

Freddie is the first one to recover. With his eyes still determinedly averted from me, he remarks casually, "God, Puckett, are you like some meat porn star? That was disgusting."

I stiffen and slowly turn my head to bore my eyes into his skull. "Oh, I bet you just _love _that, don't you, _Fredifer_," I sneer. "You probably wouldn't even know what a vagina is even if it came running at you with a ten-foot pole." I barrel on when he snaps his head towards me. "You know what, Benson? You can take that holier-than-thou attitude and stick it so far up your ass it comes out of your mouth, you – you meat hater!"

I salvage the remains of my dignity and the rest of my meat and stomp back into my room. Once I'm sure that my door is locked, I throw the packaged meat on my bed in a rage. Inside, I'm seething.

Someone knocks on my door.

"I swear to god if that's you, Freddie, I'm going to break your stupid face in," I warn.

The doorknob jiggles and turns. Carly slams the door open. Her expression is so furious I almost take step back. _Almost_.

"Before you say anything," she says quietly, "I have a key. Second, this 'thing–'" She gesticulates wildly with her hands. "–With Freddie has to stop now. So put on some—_flipping_—pants, eat your – your – gosh darned meat, and meet me outside. _Do it!_" she orders when I open my mouth to protest.

"Fine," I mutter, scuffing the floor with my toe.

Carly shoots me one last glare before closing the door behind her.

I stick my tongue at the door.

"DO IT, SAM!" Carly screams.

I turn around in a huff. That girl just knows me too god – too gosh darned well.

"Tell me why," I say for the fifth time in a row, "Carly thought it was such a bright idea to get us to hang out together."

Freddie doesn't respond and squints at the rollercoaster we're in line for. His hands are shoved in the pockets of his jeans and he deliberately turns his head away from me.

I glare at him. Uptight bastard.

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that," he says pleasantly.

"I _said_," I reply loudly, "that you're an uptight little fuck-face!" Everyone around us immediately looks scandalized. A couple of parents steer their children away from me and step out of the line. I sneer at them.

"She was born with a tail," Freddie explains to a group of teenagers in front of us. "She's afraid she's going to die a virgin because no one likes her. My theory is that she wasn't loved as a child."

Four security guards tackle me before I can break his neck. Freddie shrugs apologetically at me as he's escorted to the front of the line.

I'm still seething by the time Freddie's done with the ride. The guards release me with a warning; they were almost about to ban me from the amusement park but Freddie had declined to press charges. Plus, I hadn't gotten the chance to inflict any bodily harm on him. The guards had recognized that my war cry meant shit was about to get real, and got in the way before I could castrate Freddie.

We ride most of the rides separately in a cold silence. Although I would prefer to enjoy the park in silence, Carly's threatening me with nothing but tofu and Brussels sprouts for a whole month, so I don't really have a choice unless I want to get kicked out of her apartment.

I don't forget the comments that Freddie made, and the perfect plan finally hits me just as the sun is starting to set. I walk in the direction of the only water ride there; Freddie is forced to follow me and I almost laugh maniacally at his stupidity. Sometimes I really admire my self-control.

I don't waste any time in racing up the empty stairs, waiting impatiently at the top for Freddie to catch up.

"You do realize that we're not wearing swim suits."

"Scared of a little water?" I offer him a smug smile before I'm shooting down the snake-like tunnel.

Once I'm at the bottom I waste no time in scrambling out of the tunnel and hiding behind the bright orange structure. Freddie emerges soon after and he immediately stands up with a grimace, shucking off his shoes and socks in the knee-deep water. I instantly hook my foot around his ankle and sweep his legs under him. He falls with a yelp and a splash, but I'm already yanking at his jeans and tugging them off of his feet. I let out a woop of victory and race off, my sneakers squelching every time my feet hit the floor.

I've been running for a few minutes when I hear Freddie's angry voice behind me. I swear under my breath and run out of my shoes, barely stopping to yank my socks off and throw them into a trashcan. Freddie's red face breaks into my line of vision and I'm running for my life, the night breeze cooling down my sweaty face as I weave between lines and dodge food stands and irritated people.

I stop to catch my breath at the Ferris wheel line, Freddie's jeans clutched in my sweaty hands, chest heaving from exhaustion and adrenaline.

"PUCKETT!"

My head snaps up and I'm already running, but this time, Freddie's one step ahead of me and I barrel into him. I feel more than hear his exhale of surprise as we tumble over the chain that fences in the line and we're crashing into the ground. Freddie's back breaks my fall, but I'm too dazed and tired to react.

"Hey! You two!" the line usher waves us over.

Freddie makes a half-hearted grab at his pants but I bare my teeth at him. He raises his hands defensively before reluctantly following me to the front of the line.

I'm ready to fight with the usher, but he's grinning from ear to ear. He shakes his head. "Young love these days," he sighs. "Since you two have displayed such _passionate _feelings for each other, I'm letting you on the Ferris wheel first."

"What the hell, man?" a teenager demands.

The usher ignores him and lets us pass. I enter the compartment warily. It's one of those rides that boxes people inside some glass case so we can see the outside but can't actually experience for ourselves.

I gulp. It's also one of those rides that practically screams impending doom.

The ride has barely started and Freddie snatches his jeans back and makes to put them back on. I vaguely note that we're both barefoot.

I lunge at Freddie but twists out of the way and laughs when I crash into the seat.

"If you wanted to get into my pants you should have just said so," he taunts, waggling his eyebrows.

"Fuck you, Benson!" I snarl.

He rolls his eyes. "You wish."

I burst out laughing. It's starts out as a low chuckle, but as the reality of this situation dawns on me my whole body is shaking from laughter. I clutch my sides as I spasm uncontrollably.

Freddie looks at me like I've just grown three heads but soon enough the corner of his mouth twitches and he's laughing alongside me.

"I'm fucking crazy," I say between tears.

"You've only just figured that out?"

I collapse on the ground in front of his feet. "There have been some suspicions but I've ignored the signs for too long."

His burst of laughter almost has an affectionate edge to it. "You're really something, Sam."

Something in the pit of stomach jolts and warms me to the tips of my ears. "I guess you're not so bad. I kinda wish we'd done this sooner."

As fireworks flare up in the sky, my last words ring in my ears, loud and clear over the background of steady booms.

_I kinda wish we'd done this sooner_.

Welcome to the Lovely Café.

* * *

For future reference, chapters will be posted a day earlier on my Livejournal and Dreamwidth accounts. I'll also post previews to the chapters I'm working on, or maybe even spin-off one-shots.

PS I'm a beta-reader now!


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